


Narrow rivers

by Melguld



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melguld/pseuds/Melguld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roslin Frey swore that she'd never met anyone like Edmure Tully. And she had never regretted one single moment of it. Edmure x Roslin, modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It was an unusually hot afternoon in May; the sun had scurried all the skies and the people away from its sizzling rays. The whole of London was practically melted from the intense heat of an early summer, but the smell of rain had been in the air all afternoon.  
What a weird weather, Roslin Frey thought to herself as she unlocked the gate to the humble block of flats where she lived and passed the grey and now completely dried out patio. She went through the stairwell door, which was wide open due to the intense heat, and unlocked her mailbox. As usual, it was filled to the brim with obnoxious commercial pamphlets and smaller magazines; the only important documents were her bills and the standard public announcements – the rest were received via e-mail. The old-fashioned elevator had broken down more than two weeks ago and there hadn’t been a mechanic to fix it yet, so Roslin went up the usual four flights of stairs to reach her flat. She felt a bit lightheaded and out of breath when she made it to the green, flat door. With yet another key she finally opened the door and stepped into the medium sized flat. Already before the door behind her slammed shut, she knew that she had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner when she left the flat in a hurry that morning; the floorboard and the light blue walls were absolutely scorching after being directly exposed to the sun.   
“Shucks!” Roslin muttered annoyed under her breath and plopped her bag onto the nearest armchair and began taking her beige sandals off. At first she had bought a pair of high heel black leather sandals, but she soon found out that they were impractical and way too warm and they were now comfortably seated in the corner under the coat rack.   
The bills were put on top of the tasteful kitchen counter and Roslin went barefooted into the bathroom where she involuntarily let out a sigh of relief; the cool temperature of the blue-tiled room was extremely liberating. She opened for the tap water and splashed the nippy water onto her face and felt instantly refreshed. She had never found huge temperature changes desirable as almost every season of the year she was hindered by illness or allergic reactions. Her father had once told her sniggering that it was her mother’s Rosby genes that she had inherited. Roslin wouldn’t know; she had never known her mother as she had died of eclampsia when she was in labour with her fourth child, a little baby boy, who was stillborn. A year later, when Roslin was four, Walder Frey had found himself a new wife who was young and so inexperienced with children that Walder needed to hire a nanny. Luckily, Roslin didn’t remember much from that part of her life and she already knew back then that she could find help and solace in her two older full-blooded brothers, Perwyn and Olyvar. The rest of his children, all her half-siblings, were already adults and had moved away, though some had stayed to maybe persuade Walder to make them his heir to the enormous fortune the Frey-family owned. If he ever died she would only get a small percentage of the fortune; the largest amount would go to his some of his firstborns who were born by some woman he survived and perhaps tolerated. He never tolerated her mother – that he told her too with an utmost delight – and he only ever saw Roslin as a pretty, gullible thing he could torment. A small sob broke the everlasting silence of the flat and a handful of salty, lukewarm tears stung her eyes before falling down.  
“I’m letting the heat and dehydration get to me – that’s all,” she whispered hoarsely to the wall, in a weak attempt to calm herself, “I have to stop thinking such silly things!”  
But they weren’t at all silly; they were just as true as the fact that her pale hands shook violently and that her mouth was impossibly.   
She realized now that she had at some point sled down on the squeaky clean tile floor, sitting in an awkward position in the tight space between the transparent shower curtain and the toilet.   
Roslin rose slowly, but surely from the bathroom floor, walked past the kitchen and into the living room where her favourite instrument was placed beside a light green sofa. She picked up the dark brown violin, which had been a birthday present from her oldest brother, and tugged her chin under the chinrest. She let the violin bow stroke the strings once, before beginning to play one of her favourite pieces: César Franck’s violin sonata in A major. The well-known tune soothed her frazzled nerves and frustrated mind immediately and her fingers loosened and pushed down and then let go of the strings in the correct order. She let her eyes flutter shut and she moved in time with the powerful music, which flowed in her body like a river current. Music was her salvation in times of fear and loneliness, which consequences she was very familiar with, growing up as a Frey.   
The anxiety, that had stiffened Roslin’s body, was as good as gone when she finished playing, flustered and gasping for air.  
Chilly darkness had devoured the flat. The lights from the street cast strange shadows on the walls around her, gradually growing and flickering then disappearing in an abundance of colours. Her chest was heavy with melancholy and she let herself fall down on the armchair which was in front of the panorama-like window. Roslin felt like she was suffocating in the air of the room and she was on her feet again.   
She opened a window and the stuffy living room was filled with a mixture of the smell and sound of petrol and people. The Thames had never looked more peaceful in her opinion; everything reflected in the silky-looking surface and though she knew it was extremely dirty and contaminated, she genuinely wished at that moment that she could jump in and flow all the way through London. Her lips formed a sweet smile when she remembered the happiest days as a little girl; her brothers used to take her out swimming at the local swimming bath and cheered her on as she moved elegantly through the blue chlorine water as if she was born to do only that. Sometimes it seemed so rational that Roslin would actually believe it.


	2. Chapter 1

“Are you ready to order?”  
Roslin woke from her daydreaming. “Oh, no, I’m waiting for a friend, thank you.” The waitress with the exhausted smile nodded understandingly and strode off. Roslin continued to smile shyly by herself and resumed her reverie, drawing circles with some leftover water on the table.  
She began looking repeatedly to her right where her trusty iPhone was placed on the table and then back to the panorama window. She had chosen a table under a huge and noisy air conditioner and, thankfully, wasn’t dirty even though they were only two waitresses on duty. Finally, the phone vibrated and Roslin was quick to open its lock. A new message had been received.  
“Coming soon. Traffic jam. xoxo”  
Roslin texted a simple “ok” and a smiley afterwards, just to clarify that she wasn’t irritated at her. She scrolled down a text conservation she had had with Olyvar, who was in town and wanted to see her before going back to Bath to their father to discuss the prospects of Olyvar moving to London to pursue a career in acting which he had been talking passionately about trying for quite some time. Roslin really hoped he could convince Father; it’d be nice to have family close by to talk to, she thought. They had a good and strong relationship and as he was only two years older he made a great confidante; better than most of her half-sisters, but Roslin would never say that aloud. She looked up from the little screen and eyed every person who stepped into the café carefully.  
At last, a very beautiful, young woman stepped gracefully into the café and took off her huge, expensive-looking sunglasses, while looking around for a familiar face. Roslin waved as discreetly as she could and the woman smiled brightly and walked down to the table. Margaery Tyrell was still smiling, but she was clearly affected by the heat, because she wore a skimpy, blue dress and matching ballerina shoes (instead of her usual high-heels) and her long, light-brown hair was scraped back in a bun.   
“Hey, Ros!” Margaery exclaimed happily and reached out her right arm to hug Roslin.  
Roslin rose from her seat. “Hi, Marge,” she said, her voice muffled by her friend’s shirt.  
Roslin recognized Margaery’s favourite perfume; a lovely, but intense smell of roses as they hugged for a few seconds. Roslin sat down again and the other girl put her expensive bag and smart phone on the table.  
“Did you take the bus over here?” Roslin asked her in surprise to clarify her earlier text.  
“Yeah, I’m not taking the car anymore, because of that exact traffic. At first I thought this weather was refreshing and actually fitted the season,” she sat down with sigh and stretched her slender arms above her head shortly, “but this is just clammy and disgusting!” Margaery smiled faintly.”Oh well, you can’t have it all, can you?”  
Roslin smiled too and nodded in agreement.   
“How are you doing?” Margaery asked suddenly after a moment of silence, tilting her head to the side and grabbing Roslin’s dainty hands.  
“I'm fine, thank you,” Roslin answered a bit flushed by her friend’s action, though it wasn’t unusual of her to act this apprehensively.”Nothing much has happened since we last saw each other.”  
Margaery turned to the side and began ruffling in her bag, looking for something.”Any news from your dad?”  
Roslin froze. She had blissfully forgotten the sudden invitation to her father's fourth wedding to another rich, young woman she had never met. After some quite serious panic attacks from the procrastination, Roslin had declined politely as the ceremony was in the middle of her summer exams. She was a bit relieved actually; every wedding or baptism in her family was an unhappy and speedy event, because Walder Frey was never truly looking forward to any of it. He only ever wanted the money. He had told her that himself.  
“No, he hasn’t replied yet. I’m sure he’ll be angry with me, but I have no choice.” With those words Roslin felt painfully petty-minded and heartless; her younger half-siblings had probably been looking forward to seeing her again after a year.  
Margaery let go of her hands and Roslin in eye.”He can’t force you to come, right? I mean, it would ruin your chances of getting your undergraduate degree!”   
“I just hope he’ll let me have it,” Roslin sighed and shifted uncomfortably, “Can we please talk about something else, if you don’t mind?”  
Margaery nodded understandingly. Neither of them changed the subject for a while though and Roslin kept torturing herself by thinking about what could happen to her education after the wedding. Would he really cut it short, as Margaery had guessed? It was in the end he who paid for her flat and her expensive education. That was a calming thought; at least he didn’t want her to end up in the gutter, she supposed unintentionally sarcastic.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by another waitress who looked tiredly at them, waiting for their order. Roslin quickly ordered some fresh lemonade and two glasses. The waitress marched away and another air conditioner behind Margaery started to let out artificial breezes.  
Roslin tried her best to smile again. “What’s up in the restaurant? Any luck with that promotion you were talking about?”  
Margaery’s smile faded and she let out a deep, agonized sigh before beginning to explain:  
“No, unfortunately not. I think my boss has been whispering false things about me to the CEO, which can’t possibly be good for me. Of course, he’s going to listen to her, because she is his freaking daughter! What’s with the immense nepotism?! And now I’m getting more and more certain that she is trying to kill me! Really! The other night she shot me a look that could throw knives when I talked to her brother. I didn’t even start the conversation; he flipped his golden locks and almost forced me into a corner. Afterwards she threatened to fire me if I spoke to her family without asking permission! That’s absolutely impossible when her family practically owns the place! Oh my God! Not many people piss me off, but she really sets my teeth on edge!”  
She sighed deeply again, leaned back in the leather-clad seat and freed her hair from the hair band, rustling in it a bit with her fingers. Even though she had been complaining snarly, but quietly, some people had turned their head towards their table to see what the commotion was about. Margaery sent them a sugar-sweet smile and then pointed her finger at Roslin and said determinedly:   
“You’ll have to promise me that you’ll write my eulogy and call the police on that crazy bitch when I’m lying in a ditch somewhere!”  
Ros couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s dramatic plan. Though, Cersei Lannister did sound like a horribly spoiled and pretentious woman that could do anything to anyone because of her wealth and good looks. Roslin decided in that moment to avoid ever meeting her.  
“Of course, Granny thinks that I should get her back for all the humiliating things she’s done to me, but I would rather wait it out, make her believe that she can trust me, if only a little bit, and then strike back in the sneakiest way possible, do you know what I mean?”  
Roslin wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but nodded anyway to please her. She often never knew what the cunning brunette was up to when it came to outsmarting the opponent in a political game of power, which now had become her own working place. Margaery was considered by most people to be the ultimate prima donna, because of her rich and privileged family background, but to those who knew her well she was considerate and kind, though she was hard to read at times and her statements and motives could have different meanings. When she was told that, she said that it fitted someone who studied political science on a high level.  
The smiling waitress arrived with a jug of lemonade and two tall tumblers. Already before noon, people were beginning to seek shelter in the cafés and restaurants. The whole street of eating places must’ve earned thousands of pounds on cool drinks alone.  
“Thank you very much,” Roslin said to the waitress who left the table as even more people were trying to enter the café. Roslin turned back to Margaery. “I hope it’s okay that I didn’t order any food for us.”  
“I don’t mind. I’m not hungry anyway – especially not in this heat. I’ve been eating out since my cousins moved in and practically raided the fridge. They’re making such a mess that it’s horrible to live there and now the humidity in the place is suffocating; Granny refuses to open any windows or doors, because it disturbs her so-called ‘thinking space’. Maybe she’s planning an assassination with all that thinking?”  
“Well, I hope not,” Roslin commented knowingly, “she would be far too good at that.” Margaery’s grandmother had been a politician of the Parliament for more than 30 years, still having some trustworthy contacts and of course her everlasting sassiness so a well-planned murder seemed quite plausible.  
“So, speaking of drama,” Roslin began, pouring some lemonade into the tumblers and handing one over to Margaery, “how are you and Renly?”  
Margaery lifted one eyebrow and put the cold glass to her lips, “Oh, you know, same old, same old. On one side it’s like he isn’t interested in a relationship, or in me in fact, and now that I think about it, we don’t even spend that much time together; he’s always out and about doing God knows what. On the other side he feels like giving me attention when he’s been neglecting me for some time, almost as if he is repaying me,” she stated nonchalantly and a mischievous smile tugged in the corner of her mouth. “Sometimes I think he might be gay.”  
Roslin almost dropped her drink in shock. “Oh!” She frowned so much that her dark eyebrows nearly touched. She had no idea how to comprehend that statement. “Oh.”  
“I mean, he can do whatever he likes, but I think that should happen when you’re single, right?” A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features and then her light brown eyes met Roslin’s darker ones.”I don’t know - maybe I should just give him some more time, before jumping to conclusions about him cheating on me.”  
Roslin was still in part-shock, but managed to croak some reassuring words out, when Margaery looked at her expectantly.”Yeah s-sure, he probably isn’t cheating on you; there must be a more logical explanation. I’m sure there is.” There was a small moment of awkward silence as Roslin tried to calm her thoughts. She jumped halfway out of her seat when her phone vibrated.  
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed in shock and picked the phone from the table and made stop vibrating.  
“What was that?” Marge seemed amused by Roslin’s confusion and then shock.  
Roslin bit her lower lip and ignored her fast-beating heart. “Oh, that’s just an app I installed that keeps track on my uni schedule and lets me know when I have classes. I’m just testing if it’s working, really.”  
“That seems useful! Maybe I should have a look at it. Can you send me a link later?” Margaery asked and finished her lemonade.  
“Yeah, sure,” Roslin answered absently, not sure she’d remember it by the end of the day. She looked at the wristwatch on her left wrist and began to scramble her things together. “It seems like it’s working! I better go now; I have a lesson in 20 minutes!”  
“Oh, Ros,” she said as if she had only just remembered, “do you want to go out tonight? It’s just going to be me, you and Jeyne and it’s nothing big - call it a pleasant and relaxing conclusion to the week.”  
Roslin noticed the almost pleading tone in Marge’s voice and, for a short moment, she remembered the last she was invited to paint the town red by Margaery; it was a Thursday night in November and Margaery had invited two of her guy friends to party with them in a very popular club - needless to say it was a wild and unforgettable night where they had to drag two grown-up, very heavy men back to Margaery’s place. Her grandmother wasn’t exactly pleased with the situation the young women (who also had been drinking) had put themselves in.  
Roslin had forgiven her a long time ago, but there was always a nagging feeling in her stomach every time she thought about it; it could’ve gone terribly wrong that night.  
“Yes, of course,” Ros said before she could stop herself. She tried her best not to look nervous by looking away for a short moment and readjusting the bag strap on her shoulder. “When do we meet?”  
Margaery swung her hair over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. ”Great! I’ll come and pick you up at 9 o’clock tonight, is that okay?”  
“Sure, I’ll see you then.” She didn’t sound as enthusiastic as her pretty friend, but Margaery didn’t seem to mind; she went in for a hug and promised that it would be fun. It was at least Friday and she hadn’t been with both Margaery and Jeyne for a long time. Before leaving they exchanged goodbyes and once Roslin jogged over to the stairs leading down to the Underground, she thought nothing bad of their agreement anymore.

Roslin arrived at Temple Underground station and walked down the burning sidewalks and avoided collided with other people who seemed in a rush. It only took her two minutes to walk to the university. She went into the small park which led to Strand College where people were sitting and enjoying the sun and talking delightfully with each other. Perhaps she could find the time to do some relaxing.  
“Roslin,” someone called behind her and she recognized the deep voice and rough accent. Turning around she saw that Robb Stark had parked his bike up against the building and was now looking at her.   
“Oh, hi Robb!” Her usual awkwardness and shyness intensified whenever he was around, though he never picked up on her infatuation with him and she doubted that he ever would.  
Robb’s arms encircled her shoulders in a short and friendly hug, but Roslin felt like it was the appropriate time to crawl down into a deep hole.  
When he let her go and took his original position, she smiled strained at him. For the first time that day she looked into his blue, honest eyes. The amount of times she had looked into them and wished that she had the courage to find out if he knew about her true feelings about him! Most of the time she would push them aside, thinking that it could never happen. They treated each other like friends, nothing more.  
Robb was an honourable and charismatic guy, a bit naive sometimes, but generally really nice towards everybody; that meant that everybody liked him or at least admired him for his everlasting patience and tolerance. Margaery had told her that he had dropped out of the same political science classes she took, though he hadn’t told Roslin that; she assumed he was ashamed of his lack of interest in politics, something his father wasn’t talented in either, but wanted his son to pursue a career in. Instead Robb had begun studying medicine at the same university where Roslin was studying music. He was the one who had sought out her, though she never bothered to ask him why, and soon after they starting hanging out together, purely platonically.   
“It’s been a long time; how are you doin’, Roslin?” She could listen to that Scottish accent all day, she thought, sighing discreetly. She especially liked the way the ‘r’ in her name rolled on his tongue.  
“Um, I’m fine, thanks. A-and how about you?” Her foot began to sleep and Roslin realized that she was very anxious.  
“That’s great. I’m fine too, thank you,” Robb said, sounding like he genuinely cared for her well-being.  
Robb pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose and pointed to the magnificent building behind them with a thumb.”Were you going inside?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Roslin said breathlessly and followed him. Thankfully, the building was equipped with lots of air conditioners even though it was designed to look like an old palace with Roman statues and marble stairs. They started walking down the very elegantly decorated hallway with multiple tree archways which led to each department of the university.   
Robb turned to her and she tried not to look down in shyness. “You know what? Yesterday I went down and tried to buy a smaller air conditioner, and do you know what the clerk said to me?” he asked her expectantly, already smiling.  
She shook her head and grinned at his contagious smile.  
“He said that every linen shop all over London had been emptied for air conditioners! Can you believe that? It rains more here than back home!” He laughed heartily and Roslin laughed with him and they laughed until they reached the medicine department where Robb studied on his third year. He had been in the political science department with Margaery for a year, but she had told Roslin that he had never actually cared for it and then dropped out. Roslin hadn’t asked him why; some said that he had disappointed his father by doing it, but she hated to pry in private matters. They waved goodbye and Roslin went further down the hall, a little more spring in her step; she was absolutely thrilled to see her friend content again.


	3. Chapter 2

With a genuinely excited, though unfamiliar feeling in her gut, Roslin walked steadfast to a lecture about music history. A tall, skinny guy was slouching provocatively outside the archway to the music department and contrary to the other students who were either chatting in person or virtually, he looked so alone.  
Roslin hesitated before walking over to him. “Hi, Marilion,” Roslin said carelessly cheerful and stopped up to make some small-talk. His real name was John, but everyone called him Marilion, as it was his “artistic” name. He had stated multiple times that he’d been producing underground music in Paris under that name. Now he studied modern music as an undergraduate, but he couldn’t stand it and would only use the degree if an appropriate job offer showed up. At first, Roslin thought he was charming and handsome, but after his “real musicians don’t need a degree”-rant, and he still hung around, even Roslin lost her patience and backed off for a while.  
Now there was this sad look in his eyes all the time and Roslin couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.”Hey, Ros. How are you today?”  
Roslin smiled half-heartedly.”I’m fine, thank you,” she answered politely for the umpteenth time that day.”And you?”  
Marilion sighed dramatically and didn’t move for the students who were trying to get to class.”You’re always so nice, Roslin and you understand me or at least you try to.”  
Roslin got distracted by the flow of pupils and looked discreetly at her watch.”Well... Umm... Thanks! Sorry, but I’ve got to class. See you later?”  
He looked disappointed, but he said “see you later” too and stalked away. Roslin assumed that he went back to the study hall to talk to someone else.  
It stung in the heart when she thought about her choice of words. The continuous stream of students carried her into the lecture room, where she spotted a group of students who she had musical performance with sitting in the middle row. A blue-haired guy waved to her and patted the (coincidently) blue seat beside him. The echo of so many people chatting and laughing filled the spacious room, as she went up a flight of stairs and sat between the blue-haired guy whose name was Wat and another guy named Bael who never did anything for class.  
“Did you read for today, Roslin?” Bael immediately asked her, looking a bit desperate.  
“Yes, I did.” Roslin could feel what was coming and stared at the loading screen of her computer rather than looking into a pair of begging eyes.  
Luckily, before Roslin could let Bael copy her pre-made notes, class started as professor Tom “Sevenstrings” O’Sevens walked effortlessly into the lecture room. Although he wasn’t old enough to be a real hippie, he certainly stood out from the other professors at the university by dressing extraordinarily flamboyant. Roslin thought that each day he began to look more and more like John Lennon in the Sgt. Peppers Club days, which made her giggle girlishly.  
“Quiet in class, please,” he said patiently, gesturing at those who were standing up and chatting to sit down. As soon as the class turned silent, he said in a lilting, but strong voice:  
“Thank you. Today I’ll talk about string music in the 18th century and how it affected people back then.” He obviously heard the sigh that followed, because he smiled calmly.”Now listen up, because this is important stuff. Turn to page 257 in your textbooks and follow along.”  
Roslin did so for a good hour and it went quite well, until she was distracted by what she considered the 8th wonder of the world: Tumblr. She scrolled through endless amounts of pictures of adorable kittens and puppies, hipster-esqe photographs and philosophical quotes. She decided to check her Facebook after getting tired of reading the whining of narcissistic teenagers.  
She had 4 notifications. Robb had liked her profile picture, which made Roslin blush fiercely and quickly click away from if the others would peek along curiously. Roslin clicked on the little, blue globe. Margaery had tagged her in the comments of a Vine video about a woman pranking her boyfriend;”Should I do this to anyone in particular, Ros? ;)”, was her comment, which Roslin “liked”, grinning to herself. The third notification was a picture of herself at a party last week tagged by Jeyne, who had written a long list of tags attached to it. Roslin read only a few of them: #bestfriend #partying #finallyweekend #allthesingleladies #relaxing #Guinness #beer #partytime #sodrunk #badlightening #gorgeousfriend #jealous #notetoself #finduglyfriends. Oh, Jeyne!   
When Roslin finally looked up from the screen, the professor had changed subject and was now talking about folk music in the 18th century which was right up her alley. Good thing I’ve just watched Pride and Prejudice again, she thought and closed down Facebook.

Roslin arrived to a flat which was exactly as she’d left it. The windows were ajar – the risk of robbery was just too high – and the white curtains rustled a bit in a half-hearted breeze. A constant snapping and buzzing sound from the over capacitated air conditioner filled the silence of the living room. Roslin plopped herself on the sofa and, without really watching, flipped between several channels on the TV, before she plopped her favourite musical “Singin’ in the Rain” into the DVD player, feeling strangely nostalgic all of a sudden. She hummed along to all of the songs and even got up and gleefully did the tap dance, because she knew every step by heart.  
Right at the end of the film, someone knocked on the front door, which took Roslin by surprise; she’d never had an unexpected visitor before.  
She immediately paused the film and went across the living room to the front door. Even before she fully opened it, she had spotted the dishevelled brown curls so alike her own and a radiant smile.  
“Olyvar!” she squealed in delightful surprise and jumped into the arms of her older brother. Her heart was in her throat as she clung to his shoulders.  
“Hey there, little sis,” he whispered, turning her face so that he could see her properly, “It’s wonderful to see you again!” His smile faded when he saw tears streaming down her face and immediately brushed the sticky hair away from her reddened face. “Why are you crying?”  
“I-I’m just so happy to see you!” Roslin stuttered while smiling, “It’s been way too long.”  
Olyvar hugged her with one arm as she pulled him inside the flat and closed the door behind them. “Yeah, over a year,” he remarked, standing in the middle of the living room and looked around the flat with his hands in his pockets.  
“What’re you doing here?” she asked him curiously and almost skipped to the sofa, bursting with joy. She gestured for him to sit down on the sofa, “you were supposed to be in Bath.”  
Olyvar sat down and immediately grabbed the DVD for “Singin’ in the Rain”, inspecting it curiously by flipping it over and over again.”Yeah, I was, but I told him that I had to look for job opportunities in London and not wait for them to come at me in Bath, like he claims any of my profession does. So, I called one of my old football friends who lives here and asked him if I could stay at his place, just until I find my own flat."  
“And?” Roslin was already wringing her hands nervously at the thought; her big brother never learned his way around any other city than Bath and she would feel more comfortable if he’d stay at her place instead.  
Olyvar sensed the anxious tone in her voice and shook his head, amused.”And, he said yes, I can stay at his place for at least a month. I wouldn’t want to bother you too much with your finals coming up and such, even though you’d take me in anyway, knowing you. Don’t worry, Roslin, it’ll be fine and I had to experience the London life at some point in my life, right?” He patted her knee reassuringly.  
“Right! Well,” she hesitated, “alright! But you can always stay here if anything comes up, you know that. Who is this friend, anyway?” She had to at least know his name, before trusting him with Olyvar.  
“It’s Robb Stark – you probably don’t know him.” Olyvar completely missed the look of horror on Roslin’s face and continued on. Roslin heard absolutely none, as she was way too shocked. “He played with me for a year or two back in Manchester, real nice guy – I think you’d like him! Maybe I should introduce you?”  
Roslin swallowed a growing lump in her throat. “That won’t be necessary!” Olyvar looked quite confused and she stammered her way through an explanation. ”Umm... I-I know Robb from university, but we don’t hang out very much, because he needs to study so much.” She wiped her sweaty palms in her pants and hoped that he wouldn’t get too curious.  
On the contrary, he lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, we all should get together then and catch up!”  
“Sure!” Roslin said, before she could stop herself, “that sounds like fun!” She mentally slapped herself for being such a push-over; if she would just say “no” sometimes!  
“I have some iced tea in the refrigerator,” she pointed to the kitchen and hoped that her tone didn’t show any sign of powerlessness, “do you want some?”  
Olyvar made himself comfortable in the sofa and seemed to enjoy being cosseted.”Sure, I’d love to, Ros!”  
Roslin nodded and went into the humble kitchen which in her opinion could’ve been built bigger as you bumped into the opposite wall whenever you bend over. More than two people couldn’t ever fit in there for dear life.  
She opened the fridge and tried to remember where she had put the tea; the refrigerator was filled to the brim with jugs of homemade smoothie and all sorts of fruit and vegetables that couldn’t fit in the chilling cupboard. The coconut, which she’d bought, but never figured out how to open no matter how many internet tutorials she’d watched, had probably gone foul as the frigde smelt funny. It was thrown out and she could finally take out the jug with iced tea. She poured the golden liquid into two glasses, decorated the surface with one mint leaf each and plopped in some ice cubes, before treading carefully into the living room.  
“Oh, it’s so good to have you here,” she put her arm around him and hugged him sideways once again, “I get kind of lonely here sometimes. It’s funny how you have so much family, but they’re never around to just chat."  
Olyvar leaned forward to take a sip of his tea and raised a wondering brow in her direction.”Aren’t there any Freys in London?”  
“No, I don’t think so. Father hasn’t spread his territory that wide yet.” She could hardly count as strategic territory without any of her brothers accompanying her. Maybe allowing Olyvar to go here was Walder Frey’s idea of a check-up on her as he was old and frail? Roslin brushed the thought away immediately; she couldn’t be bothered by his manipulative plans.   
“Oh well, never mind Father – let’s talk about something else. How about your acting? Where’re you gonna study?”  
The previous frown on Olyvar’s brow disappeared and he smiled excitedly again. She could tell that he disliked family dramas as much as her.”Yeah, I’m gonna be an extra in a TV series and I already did that commercial in Bath I told you about. The schools are really tough to get in to, so I’ve been told, but I’m not gonna apply until I have some qualifications on my CV.”  
Roslin couldn’t be more proud.”Oh, my God! That- Olyvar, that’s so good to hear!” She hugged him again with all her might and couldn’t help but get little emotional and so she pulled back to avoid sobbing of happiness into his shirt. When she carefully asked him about his wages, he said they were paying him great and that she shouldn’t worry about that.  
They talked for literally hours and Roslin went out to refill the jug of iced tea twice before the sun set and London went dark purple. Olyvar had to wring himself free from his little sister’s grasp to swing the duffel bag over the shoulder.  
“Roslin,” he began half-smiling, “I’ll come visit you when I’m settled in, alright? Don’t worry too much; you’re way too good at that!”  
Roslin wished he could stay, so that they could talk and laugh all night in a big, darkened bedroom, just like when they were children.”Alright, I won’t.”  
“See you then, sis,” he said as he opened the door to the flat and left.  
“See you!” Roslin closed the door. Her heart was still beating so fast from the surprise. Out of all her siblings, he was the one she loved the most and missed the most. Their two year apart made them even closer and not even Walder Frey could break their bond. She shuddered by the mere thought of it. Thinking of her father triggered a blinding dizziness and her hands shaking violently. She fisted them, until her nails hurt the palms and tried her best to repress the anxiety. Her legs staggered their way to the nearest chair. She buried her hands in her head and kept trying to force upsetting thoughts out of her head. Stop it. Stop it. After a while she calmed down and by testing it, she lifted up a hand. It didn’t shake anymore. She could finally breathe again. Thank God.   
She lifted herself up, walked softly across the room and opened the balcony door. A cool evening breeze rushed through the flat, which made Roslin shiver uncontrollably. At least she didn’t have to turn on the air conditioner now. The sun had disappeared behind a skyscraper and the colour of the sky had turned to a combination of orange and dark purple, which fitted London in these days. People had started to trickle out to bars and nightclubs after a long week. She guessed that Olyvar must’ve settled in at Robb’s and closed the door again. Suddenly she had no realization of time. How long did we talk for? Roslin looked swiftly at the clock on a small cupboard, crammed between the door and a wall.   
Roslin froze and for a second her brain failed to work. Then it dawned on her; it was way past 8 o’  
‘clock and she’d stood Margaery up by a long shot.  
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”, she hissed while running between the bedroom and the bathroom, finding her mobile and keys to the flat. She threw on a casual dark blue dress and some black pumps and rushed out of the door, just managing turning off the lights and locking the front door. While on the way down in the elevator - as she didn’t think highly of tumbling down the stairs - the mobile rung with a subtle beep. She picked it up once she saw it was Margaery.  
“Where are you?” her friend asked, a reproachful tone in her voice, “Jeyne hasn’t turned up either, so I’m kinda drunk right now!”  
Roslin laughed relived, just as she heard a glass break in the background and Marge let out a sheepish “oops!”  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” she wondered a beat and stepped out in the dark street. “Where is that bar anyways?”  
“I can’t remember.” There was a long silence and Roslin considered calling Margaery’s name, but she rustled back to her phone.”No, no, some guy just told me that it’s on Holborn Street and the place’s called “The Melton Mowbray.””  
“Okay, I’m just going to take a taxi over there; I’ll be there in a minute.” Roslin hung up and signalled for a taxi to pick her up. 

As Roslin was approaching the place she was directed to, she could see Margaery standing outside the bar, only swaying a little when stumping her cigarette. Her hair was quite tousled, which was a rare sight at the usually so classy and tidy Margaery. She pulled Roslin by the arm, just as Roslin had finished paying for the ride and together they walked into the loud, steamy bar that was filled to the brim with slightly tipsy people.  
“We can sit over there.” Margaery led her through the dense horde of drunken people, before gesturing to a four-handed round table in the corner where they sat down. A deafening roar came from the crowd and the two friends giggled after being temporarily stunned. Not before long, a short person made her way through the crowd, who apparently was watching a game of soccer, and now stood beside their table. Roslin looked twice at the young woman, before recognizing her as Jeyne Westerling, the girl who had been her best friend since Junior School. Roslin’s eyes found the reason why she had failed to recognize her.   
Of course, Margaery beat her to it.”Jeyne! Where’s your hair?!”  
Jeyne smiled shyly.”Probably lying in a trash bin at my local hairdresser’s!”  
In the dimly-lit pub they almost couldn’t see that she had cut almost all her sandy-coloured hair. The most visible part was her new bangs that were sided neatly across her forehead.  
Ros rushed from her seat and pulled her oldest friend into a hug that would dislocate one of her bones if she squeezed any harder.  
“I think it’s very lovely!” Roslin exclaimed as she let go of her again.  
“Thanks Ros!” Jeyne sat down besides Roslin on one of the barstools that surrounded the tall, sqaure table. “I’m glad somebody appreciates it!”  
"How about we order some beer?" Margaery suggested, already up and after an eager nod from the two other girls. Roslin couldn't help but giggle a bit as Margaery swayed and clearly had started out already. She noticed something that she really noticed before; the men, young as well as old were staring at them occasionally and she said that to Margaery who just laughed and asked them to look around for women. There was only a few and they were accompanied by men. Roslin defiantly thought that Margaery and Jeyne were better-looking than her, but she could see why the men would stare; the three of them looked so much alike, that they could go for being sisters. Jeyne was tanner than the others, but they shared the same brown doe eyes.   
Jeyne raised her pint of Guinness and Marge and Roslin followed.”Cheers, girls!”  
Roslin sipped her Guinness and exclaimed surprised:”I forgot how good this beer tastes!”  
As they went on talking, more and more people were coming into the bar to celebrate the weekend. Eventually the three girls had to shout to each other to be able to have a conversation, but it didn't matter as the alcohol kept flowing and Jeyne and Roslin began to feel tipsy.  
“You know Joffrey, right?” Margaery asked, pointing at Jeyne who nodded after taking a sip of her drink. “I met him today, and I’m not gonna lie; he’s actually really hot!” She giggled girlishly.  
“What?! Margaery! Are you serious? He’s like 16 and borderline psychopathic!” Jeyne’s voice became especially shrill.  
“He’s 18 and I think he's really charming beneath the... somewhat ugly attitude.” She didn’t look completely convinced.  
Roslin was convinced and almost choked on her drink.”Can someone fill me in here, please?”  
They both looked at her. Before Margaery could open her mouth to answer her, Jeyne blurted out a mass of fast-paced words:  
“Joffrey’s the son of Cersei Lannister who’s mine and Margaery’s boss and,” she leaned so closer to Roslin as if no one was able to hear, “... a total stuck-up bitch, to be honest. She’s been raising Joffrey to be a little brat and there’s a whole lot of really, like totally disturbing stories about what he’s done, but he’s never been caught in the act because his grandfather Tywin Lannister owns, like, the whole of England and can do anything he wants.” Jeyne exhaled and leaned back in her seat. “Wow, that was really good to let out!”  
Margaery looked a bit uncomfortable, while lighting a Marlboro. “Half of that isn’t true, you know that Jeyne.” She turned to Roslin with another mischievous glint in her eye. “It’s just gossip!”  
Roslin took a very large gulp of her beer. “Wow... that’s a lot to take in.” She looked at Margaery, puzzled to say the least. “Why are you considering dating this guy again?”  
“Potentially... that could open up possibilities for my promotion.”  
“Margaery?!” Roslin exclaimed indignantly. And Jeyne followed:  
“But Cersei doesn’t even like you – why should she like you when you’re dating her beloved son?”  
Margaery looked disturbingly calm. “Well, it’s worth a try and I’m not saying anything about anyone yet.”   
“...But what about Renly?” Roslin asked confused as to why he didn’t have a say in all of this.  
“I broke up with him,” she answered bluntly, taking a drag, “It didn’t work out.”  
“Oh...” Jeyne and Roslin said simultaneously and looked at each other.  
“Let’s order some more drinks!” Those were words Roslin never thought could come from her own mouth.  
She stood up abruptly, determined to lighten the mood and walked over to the overpopulated and noisy bar.  
“A tray of shots, please!” she yelled joyfully to the busy bartender who nodded and started working on the order.  
“God-fucking-damnit, Marq!” Roslin turned her head to the loud voice. Three burly men were practically hanging over the bar to the left of her, one of them spilling his pint all over the floor in a laughing fit.”Why do you always have to be such a dickhead?” The other tall man who was obviously insulted by his friend’s laughing punched him playfully on the arm.”No, I was running after him and HE was naked. I went: ‘Hey! This is the police! Freeze!’ and then he went: ‘This is a free country and I’m a fucking anarchist!’”  
They all burst out laughing at the punch line and almost fell from their bar stools. The one guy who had told the story made his friends drink up and then ordered a new round of beer. His eyes switched momentarily to hers and she quickly looked away, covering the fact that her cheeks were now flaming red and her heart was stuck in her throat. She could feel his eyes on her while she walked away with the tray in her shaking hands.  
Jeyne was showing Margaery something funny on her phone, as Roslin put the tray on the table and sat down.  
Margaery frowned. “Is something wrong, Ros? You look kind of flustered.”  
With all her might Roslin never could avoid Margaery’s eagle eyes. “No,” she smiled, “I’m fine.” She hesitated. “Who’s up for some shots?”   
They all reached for the colourful drinks and Roslin got hold of a bright purple one which looked a bit suspicious.  
Margaery raised her shot high in a toast. “Cheers to weekends and friendships!”  
The two other women echoed the words and they clinked their small plastic glasses, before they touched bottom. Roslin had tasted jell shots before, so she wasn’t as green as Jeyne, but she couldn’t help but make a face when the liquidly jelly reached her tongue; it tasted like what trash fish smelled like. Before she knew of it, she had flung two more down in an adrenalin rush. Some more girlish, uncontrolled giggles were erupted as Jeyne spilled half of her shot onto her white shirt and didn’t even notice it.  
A female bartender came by their table with a tray of mojitos and placed it on the sticky table.   
“We didn’t order that,” said Margaery and squinted her eyes at the poor bartender.  
“It’s from the three gentlemen over there,” the bartender said and pointed to the crowded bar.  
Roslin could see exactly where she was pointing. Oh no!, she thought and saw the guy from earlier smug to her.   
“Do you know those guys, Roslin?” Jeyne hissed terrified.  
“Yeah... I mean no,” Roslin hissed back as the men were slowly going over to their table, “I only looked at one of them at the bar!”  
Margaery smiled at them both reassuringly.”Don’t worry. They aren’t going to hurt you. I’ll make sure of that.”  
“Hello ladies,” slurred the guy who was now over his laughing fit, “mind if we join you for a moment?” They settled around the table nonetheless, the first noisy man sat beside a nonchalant Margaery and the third guy hugged the table and lay there unconscious from drinking.  
Blood rushed to Roslin’s cheeks when she was aware that the man who stared at her before was staring carelessly at her again. He had ruffled-up red hair which shone golden in the poor light and deep-blue eyes, but he stank faraway of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Even in her drunken state she couldn’t utter a word of protest – only smile weakly and press herself closer and closer to the wall when he was trying to come nearer. Poor Jeyne had inched very close to her to avoid touching the man who was lying across the table. Margaery was still chatting flirtatiously with the loud-mouthed man who in the meantime was spilling his drink all over the already sticky table.   
“Please, Ros,” Jeyne whispered desperately into her ear, “this is getting too much. Let’s get out of here!”  
Roslin was about to answer her plea, when the red-haired guy grunted and said displeased:  
“Hey, I heard that! Why d’you wanna go? Don’t you enjoy our company?” He leaped out to grab Roslin’s wrist and she reacted by standing up with such force that the table almost tipped over.  
Everyone around the table went silent. “N-no!” Roslin exclaimed and pulled Jeyne up by the arm. “Margaery, let’s go!” Roslin could hear the fear and frustration in her own voice and thankfully Margaery cooperated by smiling apologetically and twisting her way out of the dark-haired man’s grip. The red-haired guy stepped aside for Roslin and Jeyne, looking kind of sad when Jeyne dragged Roslin back to the entryway.   
“I’m so very sorry, gentlemen,” they could hear Marge saying and the guys made a disappointed sound in unison, “but my friends really want to go home and I’m not willing to let them go out there all by themselves.”   
Jeyne and Roslin were already standing outside, filling their lungs with the fresh, summer mild air and making frenzied “come on” hand gestures at Margaery.  
“Oh, they seemed nice, didn’t they?” Margaery remarked loudly as she too stepped outside.  
The two other girls looked at each other. “Oh God, no!” Roslin exclaimed, half joking and half in terror.  
“I’ve met lousier men, believe me.” She lit a cigarette and pulled both of the girls into her arms. “That was actually really fun! We’ve got to do that again sometime!”  
They all cast each other a knowing look and began laughing hysterically, the echo of their laugh thrown through the almost empty street.

Roslin woke up in her own bed with a terrible headache which she had never had before in her life. Sun rays had lightened the whole flat, as she’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night. At least she had been sober enough to dress into sleepwear and remove her makeup. As if on cue, her phone rang way too loud and she considered just staying under the covers until people would stop noticing her.  
Roslin groaned and picked up the what. “Yeah?”, she answered, strangling a yawn.  
The person on the other end hesitated for a bit, probably confused at the un-Roslin-like response. “Umm... Hey, Ros. You sound kind of... off. What have you been doing?”  
Roslin shuffled to the kitchen and picked up a kettle, filling it with water. “Oh, hey Olyvar! Oh, I was out last night with some friends and it got really late and we drank some alcohol.” She cringed at how that came out; nobody would ever say that!  
There was another long pause. “Okay...” Olyvar said with a nervous laughter. “I was wondering if you would come and see my new place. And you can meet Rob and I can introduce you two!”  
Roslin chuckled as she found an Earl Grey tea leaf and plopped it in a mug. “Olyvar, I know him already from university, but I would be more than happy to see your place.”  
“You do?” he asked absent-mindedly and Roslin could imagine his enthusiasm deflate and felt bad.  
“Yeah, I do. What about 2 o’clock today?” she suggested and took a sip of the tea, “I think I need to stomp down this hangover first, though!”  
Olyvar chuckled knowingly. “Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye and remember to drink a whole lot of water!”  
She smiled at his brotherly words. “I will, bye.”  
It took her another hour to get up from the comfy sofa and actually go out. The hangover pained her every step of the way to Robb and Olyvar’s flat. She didn’t even feel nervous about seeing Robb again as she usually did. It wasn’t long from her own flat so she could easily go on foot. It was a nice flat building and the hall was quite clean and obviously well-kept.  
Floor 5, apartment 2. She knocked quietly and waited for an answer, while her head was throbbing with an unbearable pain. I miss my bed.  
Olyvar opened the door and was already sheer smiles and hugs and let her in the bachelor pad. Robb came out in the hallway as Olyvar was helping Roslin with her coat.  
“She’s been out all night drinking,” Olyvar grinned to Robb, not seeing the obvious tension.  
Olyvar! Shut up! She looked at her brother with an agonized look and then to Robb who looked quite confused.  
Before she could say anything in her defence, another man stepped into the crammed hallway. “Where do I put the TV?” He stopped as he saw Roslin. “Oh, well, hi there!” He reached out a rough-looking hand in greeting, but Roslin didn’t notice it in pure horror.  
Oh no!


	4. Chapter 3

Roslin stood there, completely frozen in the hallway and looked at the outstretched hand of the guy who had shot very longing and hungry glances at her in the pub last night. Crap!  
“Roslin,” Robb’s accent suddenly didn’t seem that sexy, now that she was in shock, “meet my uncle Edmure. Edmure, meet my friend Roslin.”  
When she did not move, Edmure grabbed her half outstretched hand and shook it gently. A weird, tinkling flutter flew through her as his huge, warm hand absorbed her cold and dainty one.  
“Just call me Ed; everyone else does!”  
For the second time in what Roslin felt were hours, she looked carefully in his eyes and prayed that the pub had been dark enough to conceal most of her face. He looked like an older version of Robb, though this man showed obvious signs of a cruel hangover; his blue eyes were bloodshot and the reddish stubble on his finely shaped jaw was at least a day old. He was dressed in a wife beater which covered a well-toned chest and stomach. Roslin’s eyes darted quickly somewhere else, as her cheeks began to feel extraordinarily warm. She noticed that Ed hadn’t let go of her hand.  
“Ros, is something wrong?” Olyvar asked, his voice being somewhere behind her.  
She had to swallow the anxiety and fear that had accumulated in her throat. “Yea- I mean no!”  
Edmure must have also sensed that something was wrong, because he removed his sweaty hand from hers and stepped back.”I didn’t scare you too much, did I?” A confident smirk formed on his lips.  
“No no, not at all!” she exclaimed a bit too fast and smiled nervously.  
He has absolutely no idea who I am, she thought, I don’t know if I should be relieved or insulted.  
Robb broke the awkward silence. “Do you want to come into the living room?”  
“Sure,” mumbled and followed them into a small living room. A brand new 50 inch flat screen TV - accompanied by a PlayStation and Xbox, of course - and a typical bachelor flat black leather sofa covered the most of the room, while a dinner table and some chairs were crammed into a corner. Nothing hung on the white walls, so it the flat didn’t have much personality. They did have a terrific view to a peaceful park, though.  
After a tour of the flat they all sat down for some Earl Grey. Luckily, Olyvar sat next to Roslin instead of Edmure who had put on a shirt in their absence.  
“I’m sorry if I seem a bit out of sorts,” he said in a hoarse voice, directed at Roslin across him, “I was out with some guys after work yesterday night and it got a bit wild, so to say!”  
Robb added with a smirk: “Yeah, I had to pick you up at, like, 4.30 this morning at some downtown pub. Way to set an example for your nephew over here!” He pointed at himself to stress his statement.  
They all chuckled as Edmure swatted Robb on the shoulder.   
“Oh, that’s funny! Like you’re a saint; the things I have yet to tell your mother!”  
Roslin caught herself looking at looking at Edmure while he told another story; his deep blue eyes shimmering and dorky, yet confident smile on his lips as he moved his in a wild gesture. She laughed at his jokes and didn’t feel embarrassed for once. She considered texting Jeyne about the turn of events – Margaery would probably make too much fuss about it than needed – but decided not to. That could wait a bit. Instead she focused on not making a complete fool of herself by blurting out anything about last night.  
She was too busy munching on a buttered scone and taking “worrying” to extreme measures to hear Olyvar laugh and say jokingly:  
“Most people would be quite shocked too, if I told you what Roslin has been up to lately!”  
Roslin kicked her brother hard on the shin which the others saw as a teasing moment between siblings and not as a very important correction to a very shameful mistake. Edmure chuckled and continued on, not noticing anything. The others continued talking, leading the conversation to Edmure’s excellent flair of fixing things, that had apparently been useful to his friends many times over the years.   
“Speaking of fixing things,” Edmure got up and knelt in front of the TV, “I think I’ve done all I could for now. I reckon the TV’ll stay that way, but if it doesn’t, call me and I’ll have a go at it again.”   
“If this goes on, uncle, I’ll never have to even think about a repairman again,” Robb joked and patted Edmure on the back.   
“Yeah, sure, but don’t count your chicken before they’re hatched.” Edmure chuckled and sat down on his chair again, taking a sip of coffee.  
“Actually,” Olyvar piped up, beaming while glancing at an, yet again, uncomfortable Roslin, “Roslin’s air conditioner broke the other day and that’s a real shame, when it’s so hot outside now.”  
“Sure, I’d be happy to fix it if you want, Roslin.” Edmure said gleefully and she was weirdly enough happy that he’d remembered her name.  
“Wouldn’t it be great to have it fixed, Roslin?” Olyvar gave her an encouraging look and she reminded herself why it’s alright to hate someone’s guts sometimes. Especially when that someone is your brother.   
“Well, I can just ca-“  
“No, no, Roslin! Why turn down this good an offer? You’ll be glad when it’s fixed, trust me.” Roslin was about to protest again, but her brother had already pushed her in the other direction.  
Edmure looked at her, waiting.”What’s wrong with your air conditioner?” It seemed to her that he constantly had a little, mischievous smile hovering on his lips.  
She moistened her lips and avoided his eyes.”Well, it says a really loud thumping sound every time I adjust the temperature and then it just shorts. And that’s quite annoying because I live on the fourth floor and there isn’t many windows in my flat so I’m kinda out of... options.”  
Roslin knew she’d been rambling by his compassionate smile.”I’ll see what I can do about it, Roslin.” Why does he keep saying my name?  
He scribbled down his number on a piece of crumbled up news paper and gave it to her.   
“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” she muttered and felt a fluttering in her stomach when he smiled boyishly at her.  
Roslin plotted the number into her phone before she would forget and glanced at her pocket watch. “What do you know, it’s already half past 4,” she remarked, making everyone looking at her, surprised. “I better get going; I have lots to do before tomorrow!”  
Robb stepped forward and hugged her unexpectedly, but at a considerate distance. “It was great having you over, Roslin! You’re very welcome here!”  
“Sure, thank you,” Roslin said softly as he let go. She turned to Edmure and reached out her hand to him. “It was very nice to meet you.”  
Edmure shook her hand and looked Roslin directly in the eyes, sending small sparks through her. “Likewise, Roslin!”   
Olyvar leaded her, with a hand on her back, into the hallway where she grabbed her bag. He stood there with his hands on his hips and a big, goofy grin on his face.  
“You’re way too cheeky for your own good, mister!” she whispered and tutted at him.   
Olyvar gasped loudly in mock horror, knowing exactly what he had done. “Wha’?! I don’t know what you mean!”   
She gave him one last sisterly slap on the arm before stepping outside on the metal patio. The heat from the metal rose through her thin ballerina shoes, which caused her to quickly walk down the staircase to the building and directly into a stampede of business people that were returning from the 4 p.m. train from inner London to Lewisham. Most of them were probably going home to their families after a long day of work. Roslin liked this neighbourhood; even though you had to travel for quite some time to get to the city, it was relatively quiet and very idealistic for a small family. The parks were well-kept and filled with weekend activities, so the kids were never bored. There was something about the children running around at the colourful playgrounds, which reminded Roslin of home. Of her siblings playing while she sat on the swing, looking at them, but never approached them. Of taunting and lonely evenings without Olyvar to lighten her mood. Of the occasional slaps from her ever-present father and embarrassment of taking the fall for the others’ mistakes. But most of all it had been quiet. Unusually quiet for a family of 8 people, most of them children. It should’ve been noisy, tolerant and loving, with a mum and a dad who adored their kids, no matter what, but it wasn’t. It was just awkwardly quiet and waiting and waiting until you were old enough to move out and get away.  
“Next stop, Canada Water.”  
Roslin was shaken from her memories and immediately got up from her seat. She looked around the train, not even realizing that she had been on the tube the entire time. That is the life of a Londoner, she thought as the train doors closed behind her, taking the tube out of sheer habit, like a zombie!  
The rest of the way to the flat was a breeze; her building wasn’t far from the station, which was always a benefit and there wasn’t much traffic around there; mostly because cars simply couldn’t fit in the small streets. On the way up the staircase of her flat building, Roslin saw her neighbour, Varys, fiddling with his door. A big, flamboyant fellow, he shared the flat with his boyfriend and they seemed really nice, even though Roslin had never really spoken to them, other than small-talk by the mailbox. They shared a quick greeting and an awkward wave, before Roslin ascended the stairs to her own flat. With as much fiddling around as Varys, she finally unlocked and opened the door.   
She looked around the dark flat and noticed that she had forgotten to close a window in her haste that morning. At least it couldn't have been clattering all day because of the lack of wind. Ignoring the spluttering and gasping noises from the A.C., she walked across the room to the kitchen and leaned out of the panorama window. The colourful skyline of central London was particularly emphasized by the pink sky. It looked like she, as well as the many office buildings, were actually situated in the skies, far from Earth and its inhabitants.   
Roslin shook herself awake from her little reverie and opened the fridge to take some leftover spaghetti carbonara out and heat it up. While the plate swirled around inside the microwave, she logged into her Netflix account on her TV and selected a show from "My list" on the main page. You can never go wrong with Gilmore Girls, she thought cheerfully. She flopped down onto the couch with her plate of pasta in one and the remote in the other and pressed play, scooting further into the pillows. She hadn't even eaten her second mouthful of carbonara, before her mobile began to ring. She groaned and picked it up from the coffee table. Edmure Tully, the screen said. She hadn't expected him to get back to her that soon.  
“Hello?” she said, while pausing Gilmore Girls.  
“Yeah, hi, Roslin! It’s Edmure Tully, y’know, Robb’s uncle?”  
“Yeah, I know who you are!” Roslin couldn’t help but giggle at his clumsy introduction.  
“Good, good!” he laughed sheepishly before continuing, ”I hope that it’s alright with you that Robb gave me your number. It’s just that,” she heard him breathe heavily on the other line, “I don’t want to trouble you, but I’m off work tomorrow so I wondered if I can swing around your place tomorrow and fix your air conditioner, like we planned?”  
“Yeah, sure!” Roslin answered and gave him the address. “How about 10 am?” she suggested, her 2 o’clock classical music class in mind.  
“… flat number 24,” Edmure muttered, sounding like he was writing it down. “10 am sounds fine to me. I promise I’ll be out of your hair before noon. See you there!”  
“Yeah, see you,” Roslin said and hung up, her heart pounding and the corners of her mouth rising.

Before her alarm clock rang at 9 o’clock the next morning, Roslin had already been up for hours, cleaning the whole flat and hopelessly trying to study for the next class to make time go faster. Though, when she finally heard that anticipated knock on the front door, she couldn’t make herself answer it. Don’t be so silly, she thought, while tugging nervously at her hair. Just make him wait for a few seconds, so he doesn’t think that you’ve been standing there, looking through the peephole the whole time. Giving herself a quick look over in the mirror beside her, she placed her hand on the knob and then opened the front door.  
He stood there on her threshold, grinning like a Cheshire cat and holding up a bright red toolbox for her to see. At least he was dressed more appropriately this time, in a grey t-shirt and worn jeans, or else Roslin wouldn’t know what to do at all.  
“Hi, Roslin,” he greeted her cheerfully, “May I come in?”  
“Y-yes, of course,” she stuttered and opened the door fully, so he could step inside. “It’s nice to see you again,” she forced herself to say, burning red.  
“You too.” He looked around the flat, stopping at the instruments. “Your flat is something else!”  
“Oh, thank you, I didn’t do much; almost all of the furniture was here from the former owner.” He gave her an approving glance. “Well, the air conditioner is over here.” She led him to the corner of the flat where the, now silent, machine was.  
Edmure took out an impressive looking power drill. “Okay,” he said strained, screwing the bolts of A.C. that connected it to the wall out, “let me just get these out.” He turned around to Roslin with the machine in hand. He was at least a head taller than her so it was awkward enough that she talked to the floor instead of him.  
“Now, let me take a look on this.” He screwed out the bolts and put the air conditioner as well as the toolbox on the table.  
“How long has it been broken?” he asked her while removing the lid and studying the insides.  
“About 3 weeks.”  
Edmure looked up at her with a funny look on his face. “So you’ve been without this for so long?”  
“Well, it has gone on and off, but it stopped completely yesterday.”   
“Well, I don’t know where I’d be without my A.C. these past few weeks,” he chuckled and pushed out the battery, “It’s been absolute hell!”  
Roslin raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, tell me about it!” She offered him a chair by the table and she too sat down opposite him.   
“What did you do again, Roslin?” Edmure asked her, looking at her over a particularly weirdly shaped bolt.  
She was caught off guard by his interest in her. “I study music at King’s College,” egged on by his genuine smile, “but right now we’re just finishing up classes and preparing for our finals.”  
He looked playfully at her and nodded towards the living room. “So that’s why you have all these nice instruments; you can actually play them!”  
It took a while for her to get the joke. She laughed nervously and pointed at the instruments. “Oh, I’ve had the piano and the violin for a while now, but I just bought the guitar and I’m trying to learn how to play it.”  
“Are you teaching yourself how to play it? That’s really impressive!”  
A blush crept up her neck. “Thanks!” she said quietly and an awkward pause ensued. “Um, can I get you some lemonade?”  
“Sure, I’d love to,” he said while he took the device apart.   
Roslin skirted into the kitchen, composing herself by leaning her body against the fridge. With a sigh she pulled out a jug of homemade lemonade and started pouring it into two tall glasses. She could hear Edmure swearing to himself in the living room. She waited a beat, repeated to herself not to panic and went into the living room. Edmure looked up as she placed a glass in front of him. Quickly, he put the glass to his lips and emptied it in the matter of seconds. He pulled a sheepish face.  
“It’s definitely something I don’t drink on a daily basis. It tastes too healthy!” Her face said it all and he quickly rephrased it. “And by that I mean that I only drink beer and this is much healthier! And that's definitely a good thing - for me at least!” She smiled at his goofy attempt of being considerate. At least she wasn’t the only nervous one.   
There were definitely some similarities to Robb; they had the same thick reddish brown hair, although Ed had some ruggedness to him, which Roslin couldn’t explain. Like he had been working on a harbour his whole life, but still had the ability to fix extremely fragile things.  
“So, what do you do?” she asked him, without thinking about it.  
He looked up and the little folds on his forehead were straightened. “I’m a police officer... I was also in the army before that.” He let out an exasperated sigh.  
“My older brother Perwyn was in the army too, in Afghanistan.” Roslin shifted in her chair as she tried to remember when it was; Perwyn wasn’t exactly brother material and he was always so reserved around his family. The war had made him insensitive and bitter. A cold shiver went through her when she remembered that time when he had called their dead mother weak. Their relationship had consequently gone from hostile to non-existent.  
“Look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to; I know for a fact that it can be very difficult to share those kinds of experiences, especially war.” Their eyes met for a split second and she suddenly felt a certain calmness run through her body and ease the tenseness in her shoulders and neck. She nodded in acknowledgement and looked down at the table. It was the first time she had talked about Perwyn and the war and what consequences it had brought to the already broken family. She hadn’t been able to share it, not even with Jeyne or Margaery.   
Edmure pushed the battery in the air conditioner and screwed the lid on tight. “Well, I think that might be it.” He rose from his seat and put the A.C. in place again with the power drill. Roslin got the air conditioner remote from the coffee table and pressed on. The machine lit up and blew fresh air in their faces instantaneously.   
Roslin sighed in delight and relief and walked towards the machine of wonders with slow steps. She turned around to look at Edmure. “Thank you so, so much, Edmure! I swear it even works better now than before!”   
Edmure raised his arms in modesty. “You’re welcome, it was my pleasure. And on that note, I should get going.” He collected the toolbox from the table. “And thanks for the drink!”  
Roslin giggled at his friendly politeness and opened the door for him. “No problem at all. I’ll see you...” she paused, not actually knowing when she would see him again.  
“I’ll see you around!” Edmure finished her sentence, sending her a wink, which made her stomach flip, and walked out the door.

“So, there isn’t a huge emergency?” Jeyne asked quizzically and handed a customer one tray of cappuccinos. She had been working at “The Independent Coffee House” (Roslin had no idea why they’d name it that) for about a year now, and Roslin liked to get her almost daily cup of joe here and have a chat with her friend at the same time.   
Roslin sighed lightly, leaning over the counter. “No, I was just exaggerating too much, y’know, like a moment of panic.”   
Jeyne puffed out air out of her cheeks. “Yeah, I know that feeling all too well!” They shared a self-deprecating laugh. They had always understood each other in those types of situations ever since they were teenagers. Jeyne handed her a big cup of steaming hot caffé latte, which surprised Roslin as she hadn’t paid.  
“You can have my employee discount for the month, I’m sick and tired of coffee right now,” Jeyne muttered under her breath, but smiled as she greeted a new customer. “We better get together, us and Margaery, to talk about all this; I wanna hear all about the juicy details!”  
Roslin wasn’t quite sure what ‘juicy’ details the fangirl in Jeyne wanted to hear about. She said her goodbyes to Jeyne and went straight to a music class, she definitely would to be late to now.


End file.
